


Never

by per_mare_ad_astra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, and the joys of being a student, just shameless fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 17:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/per_mare_ad_astra/pseuds/per_mare_ad_astra
Summary: “We’re going to a party,” Scorpius announced eventually, once they’d both stopped laughing. “We’re starting to lose it and we need to interact with other human beings before it’s too late. It’s been five days since I last talked to someone who wasn’t you or Dad.”“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”“Itisa bad thing, Albus,” Scorpius chided.





	Never

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ending 2017 with the one thing that's saved this trainwreck of a year: Scorbus fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!

If Albus never saw his stack of Potions notes again, it would be too soon.

Studying for his O.W.L.s had been bad. Studying for his N.E.W.T.s had been _really_ bad. Studying so he could get his Potioneer’s licence was a whole other level of awful, made infinitely worse by the fact that it was bloody Christmas. He should have been spending his time with Scorpius, building snowmen and listening to him gush about Healer Training and snogging in any private spot they could find; instead, he’d spent most of the holidays cooped up indoors, poring over dusty old Potions books and pondering the philosophical meaning behind Golpalott’s Laws.

Life post-Hogwarts was supposed to be better than this. He felt like he’d been lied to.

Some things _were_ better, he supposed. He was no longer stuck in a cramped, overcrowded common room or in his stuffy dorm; Draco had insisted that Albus treat Malfoy Manor as a second home, so he and Scorpius spent their days lounging in the library. Though not quite as big as the one at Hogwarts, it was spacious enough, with wide windows that let in plenty of light, comfortable leather sofas, all the books he could possibly need and, of course, a generous amount of sweets. It was almost perfect: he was sprawled on a sofa, Scorpius was sitting on the floor somewhere, there were no annoying siblings or parents that could interrupt them… It was a student’s dream.

But studying was dreadful regardless of the setting, and he had a headache, and if he had to reread Gerlinde Herzen’s _Ethics of Love Potions_ one more time, he was either going to kill someone or burst into tears.

He blew out a long breath of air, staring up at the ceiling. “Scorpius,” he called miserably.

He heard shuffling, the rustling of pages as a book was closed and gently set on the floor. And then Scorpius was looming over him, face upside down, grey eyes sparkling. “Al-boos,” he said sweetly, resting his folded arms on the sofa arm, right next to the top of Albus’s head.

Albus promptly forgot every single ridiculous thing he’d wanted to complain about, his brain choosing to focus on Scorpius instead, as it always did. The way the sunlight made his silvery hair glow, that huge, soppy, adorable smile of his (that Albus instinctively mirrored), how unfairly handsome he was.

“Hi,” he greeted.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Merely seeing his boyfriend had already brightened up the last hour considerably.

Scorpius flicked his nose. “I was studying, you know,” he said mock-accusingly. “But I suppose it’s time we took a break.” He stood up and stretched, lifting his arms and giving Albus an excellent view of his now-exposed midriff. His smile hovered on the edge between bashful and smug as he noticed what Albus was staring at. Albus grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes, trying not to look too pleased with himself. “Come on, sit up.”

“Nah.” Albus wriggled a bit, making enough space for Scorpius to lie down next to him, which he did; even though it couldn’t have been comfortable, been sandwiched between his boyfriend and the cushions, he seemed quite content. The sofa was the perfect length for Albus, but Scorpius was so ridiculously gangly that his feet dangled off the edge. In spite of this, he managed to make his lounging look graceful.

Albus nudged Scorpius’s right foot with his own. “How’re the bone-mending spells going?” he asked, watching Scorpius’s face intently. His pale skin and hair contrasted starkly with the black leather, and there were a couple of marks on the bridge of his nose, left there by the reading glasses he must have taken off just now.

Scorpius grimaced. “I’m revising anatomy again because I swear they keep making up the names. They’re either weirdly specific or delightfully ambiguous. And some of these spells and potions are _ancient_. Like, seriously ancient. We even have to study Linfred Potter’s outdated remedies, and he lived _over nine hundred_ years ago. Not that I think your ancestor’s work is a waste of time, of course, but you’d think we’d devote more time to Muggle medicine instead, since they manage quite well without magic and we could learn a thing or two about them, but no. Healer Training is a bit of a mess, to be honest.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, you nerd,” Albus said fondly.

“I _do_ love it, but it’s a mess,” Scorpius sighed. “ _I’m_ a mess. Is your potioning a mess, too? I hope it isn’t. At least one of us should be enjoying this.”

“I’m actually giving up on potioning. I’m going to make a living by selling embarrassing stories about Dad to the _Daily Prophet_. How much d’you think they’d pay to know he writes cringey poetry for Mum every Valentine’s Day?”

“Quite a lot, I suppose,” Scorpius mused. Then he flashed Albus a grin. “How much would _I_ have to pay you for you to write me cringey poetry?”

Albus snorted. “Not even a Malfoy can afford that.”

“Who says I want to pay in Galleons?” Scorpius shot back playfully. Then his gaze softened. “But come on, just think that it’ll all be over soon. Your exam is only a few weeks away, and after that you’ll be Albus Potter, Potioneer extraordinaire,” he said grandly, flinging out an arm for dramatic effect and almost hitting Albus in the nose.

“I have to _pass_ the exam, Scorpius,” he reminded him, gently forcing that arm down and taking Scorpius’s hand.

“And you will. It’s a fact of life, Albus. The sky is blue, the grass is green, water isn’t actually wet, and Albus Potter will get his Potioneer’s licence _with_ distinction,” Scorpius said firmly. “That’s just how it is, so don’t you dare try to contradict me.”

Albus felt himself go red. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he mumbled, turning so he could kiss Scorpius’s cheek. “You’ll do great in your own exams, too. When you take them. It doesn’t even need saying because you’re just naturally brilliant, but still… I know you can do it. And we’ll both be okay. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Scorpius agreed.

“We have to study before that, though.”

“Yep.”

“Ugh.”

“I know.”

“I really don’t want to.”

“I’ve spent so much time staring at books I think I might actually _become_ a book.”

“That’d be fantastic. Books don’t have to take exams.”

Scorpius burst out laughing, and Albus soon followed him. This wasn’t so different from those stress-fuelled all-nighters they’d pulled at Hogwarts. Studying had phases: determination, frustration, giggle fits and apathy. They always managed to hit the third one rather quickly. It was the least productive of the lot, since everything became ten times funnier when you gave in to laughter. But they both needed it, so they groaned and complained about their academic choices for a good while, frequently interrupted by snorts and giggles. Albus thought Draco might check in on them, to see what the source of the racket was, but thankfully they were left alone.

“We’re going to a party,” Scorpius announced eventually, once they’d both calmed down a bit. “We’re starting to lose it and we need to interact with other human beings before it’s too late. It’s been five days since I last talked to someone who wasn’t you or Dad.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It _is_ a bad thing, Albus,” Scorpius chided. “Besides, I miss your family.”

“You saw them on Christmas Day,” Albus pointed out.

“Study days aren’t like normal days,” Scorpius protested. “Five days feel like five weeks, so I _do_ miss them.”

“You really don’t. James is still being insufferable because he’s in the main Puddlemere team.” Albus rolled his eyes. “ _And_ he’s engaged now, so he won’t stop crowing about that either.” He’d proposed to his girlfriend of three years, Grace, only a couple of days ago. Albus was surprised she’d said yes; she was Muggle-born, and he knew Muggles tended to wait longer before getting engaged. By contrast, marrying young was very common in the wizarding world. Albus could get engaged tomorrow and no one would bat an eyelash. Not that he’d thought about it just yet. But if he _did_ …

Scorpius interrupted that train of thought by squeezing his hand. “Complain all you like, Albus Potter, but I know you’re happy for him,” he said with a grin.

Albus shifted so he could look at him properly, sinking into the sofa so that Scorpius was dangerously close to being on top of him. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a git.”

“He’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow, you know,” Scorpius said lightly, in what Albus recognised as his persuasive tone. “He even sent me an invitation. A _personalised_ one. It was rather impressive, actually. Very glittery.”

“Mmhm.”

“We could… go?” His tone was innocent enough, but his actions were far from it. He was the one who shifted this time, settling himself quite comfortably on top of his boyfriend, careful not to crush him, until he was practically straddling him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew that Albus knew, and he had the _gall_ to give him one of those sunny little smiles that would ensure Albus gave him whatever he wanted. For all his sweet disposition and general dorkiness, he was a Slytherin through and through. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

Albus could think of quite a few things that would be more fun than James’s bloody party, most of which could be performed on that very sofa. But Scorpius was still doing his best to look absolutely adorable, and he was weak. He sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“Only if you want to.” Scorpius’s eyes were warm, sincere, and a little bit hopeful.

Albus could say no. He wasn’t a party person, and he’d much rather celebrate New Year’s Eve in the Manor. It was always a complicated affair for the Potters and Weasleys; parents and children didn’t mix, but threw their own parties, which were hosted by a different cousin every year. Last year had been Teddy’s turn for the fourth time, since he was one of the few who had his own place. This year, it was James’s turn, and anything that involved James, guests, drinks and the perfect chance to pull a prank would surely end in disaster.

But Scorpius loved the chaos. He loved talking to people, bouncing from one conversation to the next, finding his own place in this huge, sprawling family. James had taken to calling him an ‘honorary Potter’, and those two words never failed to put a smile on his lips. If he wanted to go to this party, Albus didn’t have it in him to say no.

“Fine.”

Scorpius’s eyebrows shot up. “Fine?”

“Fine, we’ll go,” Albus clarified.

“Really? Are you sure? Because if you–”

“Don’t make me change my mind, Scorpius,” Albus warned.

Scorpius beamed at him, then leaned down so he could kiss him softly. “You’re the best, you know that?” he murmured against Albus’s lips. “The best friend, the best boyfriend, the best future potioneer…”

“That last one might not happen if I don’t _study_ ,” Albus said pointedly. Not that he didn’t want to snog his boyfriend, but if they started now they wouldn’t stop until he had to go back home, and the whole afternoon would be wasted. Part of him didn’t want to give a damn, but it was overpowered by the knowledge that he’d feel horribly guilty for days. “And you should get back to your weird anatomy things.”

But Scorpius didn’t budge. He stayed exactly where he was, on top of Albus, their faces mere inches apart. He was giving Albus that intense, pensive look that made his insides start doing somersaults. His platinum hair was so neatly combed that Albus wanted to run his hands through it just so he could muss it up. His storm grey eyes were so soft, so fond, that Albus never wanted to look away. His lips were so plump that Albus wanted to kiss him again, and again, and again.

As always, Scorpius seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

“See, the problem is…” said Scorpius, trailing a hand down his chest. Albus felt a couple of his shirt buttons come undone, but he couldn’t be bothered to look down and check. “Theory is all well and good for anatomy, but you can only learn so much from a book. Practice, on the other hand…”

“Practice is essential,” Albus agreed, his throat a little drier than usual. “You’re going to need loads. To be a good Healer, I mean.”

“So kind of you to take an interest in my career.”

“Right.”

Scorpius’s eyes flickered to his lips, and they both grinned, and there was no more talking after that.

 

* * *

 

The party was every bit as James-like as he had expected.

An explosion of colour and sound greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace. Musicblared from a nearby radio, someone (Albus was prepared to bet it was Fred) was trying to sing along and failing abysmally, and a dozen or so guests, most of them redheads, were chatting amongst themselves. A few of them let out whoops when they saw the new arrivals, and the two boys found themselves engulfed in hug after hug as they were passed from Weasley to Weasley.

They’d seen most of them just a few days ago, on Christmas Day. The only exceptions were the Weasley-Delacours, who’d just returned from France, and Molly and Lucy, who’d spent most of the holidays with their mother’s side of the family. Talking to five people at once was no easy task, and Albus struggled to keep up with the torrent of questions about his N.E.W.T.s, his future plans, his potions…

“Albus, Scorpius!”

James’s fiancée, Grace, looked absolutely delighted to see her old classmates. “We didn’t think you’d come!” she said happily, offering them both a glass of Firewhisky. Albus took his gratefully; he didn’t like the taste, but hopefully it would make the long night a bit more bearable.

“Sorry to disappoint, Grace,” he said, grinning. He waited while Scorpius kissed her on the cheek, then did the same. “And congratulations on the engagement, by the way.” He looked around furtively, then leaned closer to her. “You can still run for it, you know. Before it’s too late. I don’t think any of us would blame you.”

“ _Albus_ ,” Scorpius said mock-sternly.

Grace laughed, then tucked a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Lily said the exact same thing a while ago,” she said, her brown eyes bright. “But I think I’ll take my chances. James has grown on me over the years.”

“Can I see the ring?” Scorpius asked eagerly.

Grace beamed and held up her hand; an elegant gold band that resembled interwoven leaves glittered on her ring finger. “Rita Skeeter thinks it’s tacky,” she informed them, “but I quite like it.”

“Rita Skeeter has opinions on your engagement ring?” Albus asked, amused. In truth, it wasn’t that surprising, since Skeeter had opinions on everything that was even vaguely related to the Potters. She’d almost fainted with excitement when she’d found out Albus and Scorpius were dating, and had even managed to write and publish a bloody dissertation about the subject before Ginny got wind of it and duelled her in the middle of Diagon Alley. The mortification had almost been worth it.

“She wrote a whole article about it,” Grace said, taking a sip of Firewhisky. “Something about ‘star-crossed lovers’ because we play for different teams and me being a Harpy in more than one sense. In fact, we made the front page of _Witch Weekly_.”

“Congratulations again,” Albus said cheekily.

Grace made a face. “I wanted to crawl into a hole and die when I found out. James loves it, though.”

“What does James love?” The eldest Potter sibling seemed to Apparate next to them, sporting an obnoxiously scarlet jumper, his reddish-brown hair as unkempt as ever, his usual crooked grin in place. “Apart from you, of course,” he added cheerfully, pressing a kiss to his fiancée’s forehead before slinging an arm over her shoulders.

Grace went pink. Scorpius made a soft cooing sound. Albus mimed vomiting into his glass of Firewhisky.

James smirked at him, as he was wont to do because he was a smug git, but then his eyes flickered to the glass. He arched an eyebrow. “Tut-tut, Alby. I thought you preferred Butterbeer. And aren’t we a little too _young_ for Firewhisky?”

“I’m seventeen, you tosser.” And his birthday was only a month away, too.

“Muggle law says you have to be eighteen to drink alcohol,” James said sanctimoniously.

Grace’s lips twitched. “That’s not quite right, you know.”

“Gracie, darling, we may be enemies on the Quidditch pitch, but off it we’re _allies_.”

Grace rolled her eyes, but she didn’t bother to conceal her smile. She turned to Albus and Scorpius. “The Firewhisky is safe, boys, but I’d stay away from the Butterbeer.”

Albus raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Gracie!” James put a hand to his chest in faux agony. “Betrayed by my own fiancée… I can’t believe it,” he said dejectedly. “I guess the wedding’s off.”

“Great, we’ll make the front page of _Witch Weekly_ again.”

“I should’ve known you wanted to marry me because of the fame.”

“Oh, yes, you know me: I just can’t get enough of the spotlight.”

James and Grace’s bickering got progressively flirtier, and Albus knew it was time to go. With the excuse that he wanted to say hi to Hugo, he grabbed Scorpius’s hand and practically dragged him away over to the corridor that lead to the kitchen, which was mercifully Weasley-free. The sight of his brother snogging one of his closest friends would never stop being gross and he’d rather avoid it if he could.

Scorpius looked back at the engaged couple once or twice. “They look happy, don’t they?” he mused.

“James is _always_ happy,” Albus pointed out. “And he’s still an idiot.”

“You never know, being engaged might change him for the better.” Scorpius was silent for a few moments, lost in thought. “It must be nice. It _looks_ nice, doesn’t it? They’re very in love, and now everyone knows it. I mean, it would be better if not _everyone_ knew it, because it can’t be pleasant, having that sort of thing advertised on _Witch Weekly_ , but still, it’s… it’s nice.” It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he appeared to be blushing.

Albus’s heart skipped a beat as he got a ridiculous, insane, wonderful idea.

There would never be anyone but Scorpius, he knew that much. There never had been, even though it had taken him a little too long to realise it because he’d been unforgivably thick until fifth year. And they’d only just left Hogwarts, they were still stumbling around the outside world and trying find a foothold, but… why wait? Sure, they were both young, but getting engaged wouldn’t lead them straight to marriage; an engagement was a promise. A promise that Albus would very much like to make and keep.

Scorpius wouldn’t have to be an honorary Potter. He could be a real one. Or a Potter-Malfoy, ora Malfoy-Potter, or whatever he wanted to be, but he could be part of the family _officially_.

Once that idea took hold of him, it refused to let go. The evening went on, the clock ticking ever closer to midnight. He wouldn’t remember much of it the following day, and not just because of the Firewhisky. He’d have vague memories of playing charades, winning a game of Exploding Snap against Rose and Lily and trying to defend the Chudley Cannons, which had once again lost the League spectacularly. What would remain crystal clear in his mind, however, would be Scorpius. The way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the way he enthusiastically gestured with his hands when he was talking about something exciting, the rebellious strands of platinum hair that Albus kept brushing away. And, beyond all of that, the certainty that Albus loved him beyond what words could express, and that even if their lives changed over the next few months and years, that would not.

Midnight seemed to arrive suddenly. Their Exploding Snap victory had earned them a coveted spot on the sofa, where they were currently sitting, and Scorpius was ranting about his bone-mending spells again, encouraged by the alcohol, and Albus had given up on trying not to grin like a love-struck idiot because Scorpius’s indignation, much like everything else about him, was too endearing to ignore. And then they heard a shout, and there was a scramble as everyone tried to find their significant other, if they had one. James hadn’t let go of Grace all evening, so he had nothing to worry about, but Dominique and Fred appeared to have lost their girlfriends.

“ _Ten_!”

Lily and Roxanne were standing on a table and yelling out the countdown.

“ _Nine_!”

Dominique finally found her girlfriend and was so relieved that she straight-up ignored the countdown and started snogging her.

“ _Eight_!”

Albus felt a nudge. 

“Will you be my New Year’s kiss?” Scorpius's eyes sparkled with amusement.

“ _Seven_!”

“You have to ask?” Albus said dryly. “I already kiss you every day of the year.”

“ _Six_!”

“True.” Scorpius took his hand and squeezed it tight. “You won’t stop, will you?”

“ _Four_!”

They’d been together for almost three years, and Albus’s heart still raced when Scorpius looked at him like that.

“ _Three_!”

There would never, ever be anyone but Scorpius.

“ _Two_!”

“Never,” Albus promised.

“ _One_!”

The kiss was sweet and familiar, and it filled him with warmth. As they separated and wished each other a happy new year, Albus found his thoughts wandering down the new path he’d discovered that day.

Scorpius and him. Engagement. A promise.

Maybe in one year. They could spend these twelve months working everything out, learning more about themselves and each other, and then… then he would decide. Or rather, Scorpius would decide, because Albus would be the one to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and/or reviews are, as always, very much appreciated <3
> 
> Happy New Year! And thank you to everyone who's supported my writing in 2017!!


End file.
